


Sequitur

by LemonScience33



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: ADHD, ADHD Newt, Drift Hangover, Drift Side Effects, M/M, Neuroatypical Newt, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonScience33/pseuds/LemonScience33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Newt figures getting drunk with Hermann might be a good way to temporarily bring back his own haphazard brilliance. </i> </p><p><i>Plus, okay, Newt really wants to see Hermann drunk before the ADHDrift wears off, because he’s pretty sure it’ll be the best thing he ever sees in his life. </i> </p><p>After Newt and Hermann partially exchange thought patterns in the drift, Hermann is way less inhibited than normal, and Newt still can't say the right things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sequitur

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [irisbleufic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic) for the thorough and lightning-fast beta! As someone who has ADHD, I wanted to do this fic justice. Without her, it wouldn't have turned out half as good as it did. Much love! <3
> 
> Also, **warning** for mild internalized ableism on Newt's part with regards to his ADHD.

Three days after he drifts with Hermann, Newt realizes he _hasn’t taken his medication._

And yeah, sure, adrenaline and caffeine have similar effects to amphetamines in a pinch. That’s how Newt got through, like, three all-nighters in undergrad when he’d forgotten to pick up his Adderall prescription before MIT Pharmacy had closed for the night.

However, recently Newt’s thoughts have been _orderly_ in a way they just _aren’t_ , even with meds, and this is… weird.

Newt’s pretty sure he hates it, actually.

What’s also weird (and, okay, amusing) is Hermann’s recent propensity to blurt out non sequiturs, then flush as if he hadn’t intended to say anything aloud.

At this point it’s clear what’s going on, and it’s not without precedent. Mental patterns get transferred through the drift sometimes: depression, anxiety, neurotypicality…

Drift researchers can add “ADHD, hyperactive-impulsive type” to the list.

~~~

Newt’s been on medication since he was nine. He doesn’t take it every day – sometimes you gotta rock out – but work and social interactions are more of a struggle when he doesn’t.

Hermann seems to be feeling that struggle right now. Newt suspects the mathematician is only able to keep working, unmedicated, because he’s as obsessed with Breach physics as Newt is with kaiju biology. Newt has always thought that might be the case, and based on what he felt in the drift and on the way Hermann’s been hyperfocusing for six hours, Newt is certain now of the extent of Hermann’s passion. It’s _really_ sexy, actually.

That said...

“Hey, Herms.” He knows Hermann’s going to yell at him, but Newt’s lab partner hasn’t eaten all day, and that’s Newt’s bad habit, not Hermann’s. “ _Herms_.”

Sure enough, Hermann looks even grumpier than usual, as if he’s struggling to hold onto his train of thought and Newt is making that difficult. “What _is it_ , Newton?” he snaps.

“You haven’t eaten in eight hours,” Newt says gently. “Take a break, dude.”

Hermann seems surprised. He’s a man with a schedule, and he doesn’t work through meals unless he _decides_ to.

“Yes,” Hermann says, looking bewildered. “Yes, all right.”

They walk side by side to the mess hall. Newt’s brain feels _quiet_ , and his hip kind of hurts, and he figures this is what he gets for being amused by Hermann’s predicament.

“Our problem –” Newt taps his temple. “– should go away in few days, don’t worry.”

Hermann narrows his eyes. “What problem?” he says suspiciously, as if he thinks Newt might have done something on purpose.

Newt winces. “The ADHD I transferred to you through the drift.”

 _Hopefully also the hip pain you gave me,_ Newt thinks but doesn’t say, because effortlessly biting his tongue is a superpower he currently has, and Hermann doesn’t need to feel all guilty.

Hermann frowns.

“ADHD,” Newt repeats. “You know, the neurobiological reason it’s, like, a Herculean effort for me to not be an annoying shit who overshares all the time?”

“I know what it is, Newton,” Hermann says.

Newt almost feels sorry for him.

~~~

On multiple occasions, Newt has been mistaken for inebriated when he’s stone-cold sober, and one time a few strangers at a party thought he was tripping on acid when he was merely drunk and wearing some really great diffraction glasses.

Newt misses his weird-ass thought patterns, and yeah, he’s still himself, but he feels _off._ He figures getting drunk with Hermann might be a good way to temporarily bring back his haphazard brilliance.

Plus, okay, Newt really wants to see Hermann drunk before the ADHDrift wears off, because he’s pretty sure it’ll be the best thing he ever sees in his life.

Hermann does not disappoint. By his second shot, he’s waxing rhapsodic about a Verdi opera he saw once in Berlin, complete with reenactments of the soprano arias.

By Hermann’s third shot, they’re leaning half against each other on the ugly red lab couch. Hermann rests his head on Newt’s shoulder, laughing about something or other, and he’s so _casual_ about it, like they cuddle on couches every day.

Newt has imagined this for so long, just touching Hermann like this, like two people who don’t hate each other. Like two people who _like_ each other. And based on ten years of being around Hermann, Newt knows he’ll probably never get to have this again, so he’s going to enjoy it while it lasts.

For his part, Newt is on his sixth shot, which is kinda unhealthy, yeah, but they just survived an attempted apocalypse, so he can’t muster a fuck to give. He’s starting to feel the way he usually does after three or four drinks, which tells him this might finally be working.

Newt is contemplating whether he can pour himself a seventh without Hermann moving, and that’s when Hermann looks up at him with the most open, fearless expression Newt has ever seen, and something _clicks_.

Newt’s mind is usually great at making connections, at seeing the big picture. He probably would have put it together _days ago_ if he hadn’t been all _neurotypical_ , but Newt-minus-ADHD is apparently great at everyday life and bad at realizing that _Hermann Gottlieb has feelings for him._

Shit. Hermann had _no way_ of knowing just how disinhibited he’d get when his prefrontal cortex was pretty much turned off. Newt shouldn’t have put him in this position. _I need to get out of here,_ Newt thinks, _before Hermann does something he’s going to regret even more than the opera._

Hermann’s lips part, and he’s looking at Newt like he’s some kind of miracle.

“I love you,” he says seriously.

Newt can’t help it. He kisses him.

Newt brushes his thumb over that sharp, perfect cheekbone and sweeps his tongue into that sharp, perfect mouth, and Hermann is _kissing him back_.

This is the best thing that –

– never should have happened, not like this, and all at once, Newt feels like throwing up. He stands up so fast that Hermann tumbles forward, and he feels like an asshole for the way Hermann looks so _confused and hurt_.

But if Newt stays, he's only going to take further advantage of his doubly-drunk lab partner, and that is not gonna happen.

“I'm so sorry,” Newt says, and flees.

~~~

Newt wakes up the next morning with a massive headache, wearing his clothes from the night before.

The first thing he remembers is that Hermann said he _loved him_.

The second thing he remembers is that _he didn’t say it back_.

Although the alcohol hadn't quite replicated Newt’s normal thought patterns, apparently it had reproduced some of his usual personality flaws, like his utter inability to say the right thing at the right time.

_Fucking damn it._

Newt runs to the lab. He’s rounding corners too fast, and his hip still hurts, and at one point he nearly slams into Tendo, and this, the frantic rush to fix a grievous social error, _this_ feels all too familiar.

“ _Hermann_ ,” he yells as he flings open the door and rushes inside.

The man in question, who is sitting at his desk pretending to work, doesn’t look at him. “If you’ll excuse me, _Doctor Geiszler_ , I don’t wish to speak with you this morning,” he says stiffly.

 _Ow._ That kinda hurts.

Newt totally deserves it.

“Hermann, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

Hermann’s lips arc downward into the most upset-looking parenthesis Newt has ever seen, and fuck, that is a bad thing. This is bad. “What part of _I don’t wish to speak with you_ was unclear?”

“Hermann, please, will you listen to me for _one second_?”

Hermann grabs his cane and makes to leave, but Newt blocks him; Hermann turns away with a huff.

“I should have said something last night,” Newt says quietly. “You probably spent all night thinking I don’t love you back, which is so fucked up.”

At that, Hermann finally makes eye contact. His eyes are bloodshot, not just from the drift overload, and he seems to be trying and failing to build his usual emotional walls. Newt is literally the worst person ever. He doesn’t and will never deserve this man.

“I never imagined you felt that way about me,” Newt continues, “because you’re amazing and I'm... well.” He laughs and looks at Hermann’s chalkboard because Hermann’s face is just too much right now, it’s all too much. “I kinda thought you hated me until, like, last week. And I felt so guilty for getting you drunk and _kissing you_ when you were already kinda fucked up from my thoughts.” Newt looks Hermann in the eye and takes a shaky breath. “But what I should have said last night is that I’m _so fucking in love with you,_ Hermann. That’s been a fucking constant for, like, eight years.”

The words hang in the air like a sign that says, _Please Forgive Me For Being A Fuck-Up_.

Hermann doesn’t say anything.

The seconds drag on, and Newt can feel the blood slowly drain from his digestive system. “Please say anything at all, dude.”

Hermann licks his lips. “All right,” he says, and smiles slowly.

“Oh,” Newt says, and he can breathe again. “Okay.”

Newt isn’t sure what to do, so he does what he desperately wants to and takes those last few steps toward Hermann. They’re so close now that Newt can smell Hermann’s aftershave and see every burst capillary in his shrewd, loving eyes. “We match now,” he says with wonder, and this is really happening – is this really happening?

Hermann cups Newt’s jaw with both hands and kisses him.

It’s perfect. Hermann’s stupid, sexy frog-mouth is ruthless, and his lips are dry and warm, and his long, graceful, _ridiculous_ fingers are in Newt’s hair, and Newt has about 50,000 competing thoughts right now and all of them are about Hermann.

Hermann _moans_ , and Newt grabs his ass, which feels even better than it looks, holy fucking shit, and Hermann is backing him against the wall, and they’re rutting against each other, and all 50,000 of Newt’s thoughts leave his brain, and that’s good, too.

They can’t get each other’s pants down fast enough, and it’s _hot_ and, really, Newt isn’t sure how he managed to unfuck this situation, but Hermann takes both of them in hand and _their cocks are touching_ and fuck, fuck, Newt has been imagining this for over a decade, and _Hermann loves him_ , Jesus Christ in heaven, and it only takes a few strokes before Newt is coming and Hermann is tumbling after him.

“ _Shit_ ,” Newt says, clutching at Hermann's strong back. “Shit. I love you.”

“I know,” Hermann murmurs into Newt’s neck. Everything is still except for their chests pressed together, their heartbeats and breaths joining in the lab they’ve shared for two years.

Newt suddenly gets it, and it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in weeks. “Dude, was that a _Star Wars_ reference? Have you even _seen_ _Star Wars_?”

Hermann presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses up Newt’s neck. “I watched it after we drifted,” he says against Newt’s pulse point. “You might be surprised to hear I rather enjoyed it.”

“Mmm, must be the drift hangover,” Newt says, still giggling, and finds Hermann’s mouth again.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

After a few minutes, Hermann pulls away and rests his forehead against Newt’s. “Seeing as how we’re hungover, Newton,” he says, “Perhaps we should be in bed.”

_Oh, god._

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Yeah, okay.”

Hermann’s room is closer, so that’s where they end up.

They undress each other slowly. Hermann is lean and muscular and a total babe (Newt fucking called it), and Newt _finally_ gets his mouth on Hermann’s dick. Afterward, Hermann kisses Newt all over – Newt is beginning to suspect that Hermann doesn’t actually hate his tattoos at all – then gives Newt the best blowjob of his life; Newt swears someday he'll last longer than two minutes.

They hold each other afterward, and it feels like saving the world.

~~~

The drift hangover lasts for two more days, and they barely leave the room for three. They're rock stars, Hermann says. They've earned it.


End file.
